On Her Sleeve
by uhpockuhlipz
Summary: Wearing your heart on your sleeve is not a fashion trend.  ficlet based on "Sexy". Brittana.


Putting everything you have in you out there for the world to see was not something someone like Santana Lopez did. After all, wearing your heart on your sleeve was not a fashion trend. You could only get away with it for so long before the sleeve gets dirty and torn and faded from too much use. So Santana didn't bother with all of that. Santana was _above_ that. She spent her time ruining other people's relationships, trying to stay ahead, trying to stay on top. Her own feelings – because she did have them, despite the rumors circulating inferring the opposite – remained tucked safely away in the hidden compartment of her fashion forward heart. Fashion forward, of course, because it resided not on her sleeve but behind the protective fortress she'd built over the years.

Only Brittany had ever scaled those walls, and even she had never found the key to the lock that would set all of those emotions free. Not until she'd asked to talk and dragged her along to see Miss Holliday. Not until she'd asked her to listen to the older woman's advice. Not until she'd _asked. _The fact she'd cared enough to ask what Santana was feeling, that was the key. No one had ever done that before- no one had ever cared. So the secret compartment had slowly creaked open and Santana had pulled from its dusty depths… a song. A song she hesitantly suggested as she slowly, carefully began to drop the protective walls from around her timid, terrified heart. It was not used to such exposure.

Santana cradled her reticent heart to her chest when they sang, pressed it protectively close as she let her voice lift hesitantly above Miss Holliday's to blend with Brittany's. Her eyes met her best friend's as the tears fell, and even as she shielded her fragile heart with cupped hands, it struggled in the depth of those tears. The song ended and Santana felt relief that Brittany understood; that when it mattered, the blonde got her message. She stood and wrapped her arms around the other girl. But it was short-lived. Rachel's comment had her timid heart shying away, clambering for the shadows and hideaways created by the fortress' remains. With one final look for Brittany, who suddenly looked very unsure of her again, Santana walked away and sank quickly into her chair. Her heart could only take so much publicity in a day.

The day Santana wore her heart on her sleeve was a terrifying one. Her resolve was weak, her strength flagging. She feared that if she did not do it now, however, she would not do it at all. So she walked quickly toward her best friend. Then slower. Then almost apprehensively, like she might run in the opposite direction at any moment. Her greeting was quiet and not at all like her when she managed to spit it out. Santana could feel her heart beating wildly at her wrist, anticipating. Yearning. Afraid and hopeful.

_Of course I love you. I do. _

The heart on her sleeve soared, raced, flew. It could take on the world. It could take on the universe. It was a strong, brave, warrior ready to face whatever hardship was thrown its way because it was beating in sync with another heart.

… _if it weren't for Artie… I love him too…_

And suddenly it was slowing, dimming, losing faith. Losing that glow. It was once more reminded of its place right there on Santana's sleeve, exposed, sullied. It couldn't take on the world. It couldn't even take on one stupid boy in a wheelchair. It was dampened with tears now. When Brittany moved to hug her and Santana shoved her away, it became bruised. When Santana turned and fled for the locker room, when her fist connected with a wall once safely hidden there, it became stained with blood and torn skin.

Santana sank to the floor and sobbed, her battered heart beating feebly at her wrist. And as slowly as it had been freed before, that's how quickly she tore her heart from her sleeve and shoved it back into that hidden compartment, locked it, hid the key. The fortress went back up, the walls thicker and higher than before. This is why Santana preferred to be fashion forward. It was safer than going against the goddamned norm. Safer to stick with what was predictable, what was easy. Wearing your heart on your sleeve was not any of those things.

Her own was tattered and stained enough now to prove it.

**Angsty ficlet is angsty… I'm working on the next installment of This Isn't Dating, but I needed to get a quick fic out after "Sexy" because ugh so emotional. It was a beautiful episode, but I'm so emotional over it hahaha. **


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